


The Voice Within

by orphan_account



Category: Jenny McCarthy - Fandom, Truth - Fandom
Genre: Drug Use, Other, Past Molestation, Past Rape, Self-Harm, Sex Addiction, alcohol use, disclosure of abuse, memories of abuse, probably others - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jenny is confronted by a disembodied voice and is forced to admit some hard truths.I genuinely believe she has serious issues, some of which are not her fault. I hope she gets help.Fiction. Don't know her. No money is made from this.Jenny has, in videotaped interviews and/or print interviews, admitted to some of the incidents mentioned in this fiction. She has committed some of the acts/behaviors mentioned in this fiction. It's there online for anyone to research, as well as on her various tv appearances, in her books, etc.There was a wealth of material I could have used, but I restrained myself.I believe Jenny, along with hundreds of other 'celebrities,' has real emotional and/or psychological problems. She just happens to be one of the more.. vocal? over-exposed? blatant? examples.





	1. It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny's life gets interesting in an unsexy way

The day was winding down. It was hard, him being gone so much, but she had her fantasies to distract her. Sure, some of them were fucked-up, but didn't everyone have some twisted stuff that got them off? I mean, if they were honest, like she was? 

Mental images of herself cramming her tongue down an underage Justin Bieber's throat began to drift through her brain. The awards ceremony had been a good night, fueling attention for her for days. That was a good place to start. She reached for one of the many toys she claimed to have gotten rid of, skipping the lube. She was perpetually wet, something which had baffled a few of her doctors over the years. 

Something about a priest tried to intrude upon her thoughts, but she shoved it aside with her fantasy of being taken over by an older, fatherly figure. She shouldn't be thinking of her dad right now; then again, they were unusually 'close..' She talked openly with him about her sex life, past and present, and he'd seen her Playboy spreads. She took an active role in trying to get him laid, and..

Oh, fuck. That was.. Was that part of why people thought she was sick? I mean, didn't all old men give their grown daughters orgasmic foot-rubs? Didn't all fathers admire their daughter's plastic surgery results, or..? 

"No, Jenny. That isn't healthy."

She froze, hand pausing mid-thrust. When she didn't hear anything further, she resumed, hoping her wrist wouldn't cramp like last time. Jenny allowed her mind to wander, and it went to some dark places: memories of herself as a six year old, sitting bare-assed on the church pew, enjoying how that felt and the squeaky noise it made. Then there was the time she hadn't had enough gas money to get to Florida for Spring Break, so she'd approached random guys and offered to suck them off for money. Twenty whole dollars, just to soil her mouth and possibly get a disease and die? What a deal! She'd never topped THAT negotiation, not once in her entire career.

"Jenny. You need help."

'The fuck? Some voice was trying to interrupt her get-off sesh? "At least talk DIRTY if you're gonna - "

Jenny fell silent as a presence filled the room, settling at the foot of her bed. She couldn't see it, but she felt it. It was heavy, and sad, and.. wrong. She felt wrong. Naked. Covering herself with a sheet, she sat up.

"Who the fuck ARE you?"

"I am you. I am the voice of truth within you."

"Yeah? Well, the only thing I want 'within' me right now is this plastic copy of my man's dick, so FUCK OFF!"

Silence for a moment, but the feeling remained.

"You can't banish me, Jenny - not like that. You have to look within, to heal the wounds there. I'll keep getting louder until you do."

Jenny closed her eyes, fingers twisting the toy in ever more desperate maneuvers. She WOULD cum, damn it. It was HER body, and no one else had the.. right.. to..

Something was there. She could almost remember, times when someone bigger made her do things, things that were exciting but also hurt. How old was she? 

Jenny's heart thudded in her chest. "I thought those games were MY idea.." The words came out in a rush before she could stop them. Where had that even come from? Flashes of her childhood played out in random order. "Fuck.."

She spent several minutes trying to clear her head. When it didn't cooperate, she went in search of her old crutches: Alcohol. Pills. Both of them together would make it stop.

The last thing Jenny remembered before slipping away was the voice asking her why she was always putting things in her mouth. The words 'oral fixation' flooded her being, and then everything faded to black.


	2. Louder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The voice will not be silenced for long...

She woke up with a headache. Everything was spinning, and Jenny was glad there was a small trash can near the side of the bed. Vomiting into it, she took deep breaths. The craving was there again; fumbling through the sheets for her toy, she felt its cool surface, still sticky, bringing it into position between her legs. As she plunged it inside herself, the voice began again.

"Letting your dad give you foot-rubs.. That's too intimate."

She shook her head, but it hurt. Jenny stilled, biting her lip.

"Having him read erotica on your radio show in front of you.. That's not normal."

Jenny was furious - and nauseous. So her dad had all of her nude photo-shoots - so what? He was proud of his little girl. If she was single, she'd totally date someone like him.

Where did THAT thought come from?

"You joked about molestation and rape when you kissed and groped Justin Bieber against his will.."

Jenny frowned. She was a WOMAN. She could get away with that stuff. It was different when men did that - wasn't it?

"No, Jenny. It's all wrong. Age, gender, sexuality - it doesn't matter. Violating someone is always - "

She flung the toy at the wall, hearing as it struck a photo and knocked the frame from its place to the floor. One of her wedding photos.

Her entire life, she'd sought out the camera. Attention gave her a high, a temporary feeling of worth. As long as she was desirable, she was okay. Lately, she felt less people staring at her, undressing her with their eyes. It was not a good feeling.

Easing herself towards the mirror, Jenny surveyed her body with a critical eye. Her implants needed replacing, and soon. Her injections weren't snapping the skin back to its youthful firmness like they used to. And - good GOD - were those.. wrinkles? On her KNEES?!? 

The truth was, no matter how many people jacked off to her photos, she still felt ugly. She felt dirty and wrong inside, and the fame hadn't made that feeling stop. The money hadn't chased that shame away.

"You made jokes about your son seeing your nude photos, and about his internet history of foot rub photos. You act like a foot fetish is disgusting and wrong, after all you've done.."

She rubbed her temples. The voice kept going.

"You told Andy Cohen that bisexual men aren't 'real' men, minutes after discussing your own same-sex experiences. You call yourself bisexual, and yet you shame others for the same thing."

She gritted her teeth, grinding them together. 

"You hate yourself. You hate the shame that lives in you, so you project it onto others. You shamed Tara Reid for having surgery because you hate yourself for having bad and excessive plastic surgery. You shame others' desires because you loathe yourself for your own secret fantasies. You are ashamed of your frequent nudity, haunted by the past, so you attack others for their choices. You diss other people's career moves because you know your own career is based on your looks and your obnoxiousness, rather than talent."

Jenny found her phone, dialing a number she'd hoped she'd never need. This nightmare had to end.


	3. Outside Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny gets an outsider's input

In celebrity circles, everybody was a friend of a friend. Everyone knew so-and-so's cousin's ex's babysitter's dog-walker, and if you could use that tenuous connection to get a referral - for a job, an interview, a photo op, a pill-prescriber, etc, you used it.

Jenny had received the name and number of a therapist who specialized in famous clients. With a 100% confidentiality record - no client names or info had ever escaped her office - this lady was a hot ticket. Jenny, still naked, her sex still thrumming, sat on the side of the bed, her head in one hand. The phone rang once, twice, and a receptionist with a soothing voice answered on the third ring.

Jenny explained who she was and that she'd been hearing a voice, and an appointment was scheduled for that evening. Dr. Lobos worked odd hours when necessary, and this sounded like a serious issue. After completing the intake process over the phone, the receptionist typing in the information as they talked, Jenny hung up. The voice continued to address her throughout the day, getting louder whenever Jenny became aroused - which was often.

"What's wrong with sex?," Jenny asked aloud.

"Nothing - if it's used correctly. You use it to manipulate, to profit, to control; you use it for love and approval; you use it to distract yourself from other aspects of your life... and to relive what happened to you."

She needed an orgasm in the worst way. Sucking on lollipops, vaping her e-cig, sucking down diet smoothies - none of it was giving her her fix. It didn't satisfy; her nails tapped idly on any available surface, she played with her hair, she adjusted her clothing and touched up her make-up hundreds of times. Every part of her was restless and unfulfilled, and that, she realized, was the story of her life.

At last, her appointment time arrived. Dr. Lobos entered the house, and Jenny chose the living room for their session.

Launching right into it, Jenny recounted the voice and all it had said, from the beginning right up to the present moment.

"Why do you suppose it started?"

Jenny was aghast. "You're supposed to tell ME, aren't you?"

"No, Jenny. Only you have the answers. I'm just the facilitator. Why now?"

Jenny thought and thought. It hurt. "I don't know."

Dr. Lobos changed tack. "Okay. Is there any truth to any of the things the voice has been saying?"

Jenny began to cry. It all came tumbling out in sobs: every memory over which hovered a question mark as to what had happened; every time she'd been harassed, followed, groped, or worse.. the compulsive sexual behavior.. the inability to ever fully be satisfied, no matter how many times she got off.. the secret porn addiction..

When she stopped talking, Dr. Lobos had taken copious notes.

"Jenny, what was done to you was not your fault. It wouldn't have mattered what you looked like, or how smart you were, or how you behaved or misbehaved. It was not your fault. Can you see that?"

She blamed herself. Something in her must have attracted the attention of bad people, some defect, some dark desire - 

"No, Jenny. A child can't seduce someone. They don't know how."

Dr. Lobos continued to express that truth in as many ways as she could until Jenny began to internalize it.

"Now. When you suffer trauma, it changes the way your brain works. As we grow, our brains become hard-wired by our experiences, good and bad. Those who live without major trauma tend to have better-functioning brains; those who experience trauma, especially violent or sexual in nature, have brains which are wired wrong. Do you have difficulty concentrating? Memory issues? Impulsive speech or behaviors? Intrusive thoughts?"

Jenny felt her world crashing down around her ears. "I thought I was just stupid. I thought I was bad, or a lazy learner, or.."

Dr. Lobos smiled gently. "Jenny, your brain is a tangle of crossed wires and bad connections. It will take time and a lot of work to unhook and untangle all of those and reroute them the right way - the healthy way."

Jenny divulged all of her attempts to self-medicate with alcohol and drugs, both legal and illegal. Dr. Lobos nodded.

"The traumatized brain, like the diseased brain of a schizophrenic or bipolar person, often craves substances to try to counteract the thoughts and feelings associated with the trauma. Some people use drugs and alcohol to feel numb; others, to black out. Some use them to lose inhibitions so they can have sex without remembering the abuse.."

Jenny blew her nose into a tissue.

"..while others want to hallucinate, to alter their perception of time and reality because the truth is too big and scary for them."

Jenny could see times when she'd sought each of those effects.

The session was almost over, and it had felt like the longest night of Jenny's life - and yet, it had gone so quickly. 

"Dr. Lobos.. All the awful things I've said and done. All those shameful, destructive things.."

The good doctor patted her hand. "The past is past. All we have is now. Can you see who you are now, in this moment?"

Jenny wanted to be healthy. She wanted to experience life and sexuality from a good place, a place of light and freedom, rather than darkness and secrecy. "I think so. I.. I want to be better. I do."

The doctor nodded. "Each moment is a new opportunity. Each breath is a chance to start again. The process can be repeated thousands of times, until the day we die - but it all starts with one. Just one."

Jenny took a deep breath. "I can handle 'one'. I can do one at a time."

Dr. Lobos set an appointment for three days later; they'd start with twice a week, then scale back when Jenny was ready. 

The voice had tried to interrupt several times during the session, and with the therapist's departure, it had center stage once more.

This time, though, Jenny knew how to listen to it without anger, and answer it without fear.

After all, it was a part of her - and she was in charge of her life and her self, starting that very moment.


End file.
